


In the Devil's Arms

by livingwithmermaids



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a witch but not really, Implied Character Death, M/M, Salem Witch Trials, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4372877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingwithmermaids/pseuds/livingwithmermaids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester didn't do anything.  He was a good man, and he was just that; a man. He was not a witch.</p><p>But that didn't matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Devil's Arms

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Paranorman and I was like "WHAAAAAA", and I got inspired and I wrote this. This will be my three drabbles for today. I apolpogize if this is a bit inaccurate, because this takes place in the 1600's.
> 
> I don't really know what this is whoops

_Dear Sam,_

_It was never supposed to end this way, I swear. I thought it would work, I thought if we ran far enough they wouldn't catch me. But I was wrong. I think they might be insane, because I can hear them outside. I can hear them walking through the trees with their guns ready. I don't want to die that way. When they find this little cabin of yours, I'm going to go with them. I'm going to sit and wait for them to come, and when they do, I'm going peacefully. I'm going to let them burn me like I should have in the first place._

_Please don't go after them. If they find out about us, they'll kill you too. It's not your time. Perhaps I'll see you again. Perhaps it will better._

_Your love,_

_Dean_

~o~

"The Council have decided that you, Dean Winchester, are guilty of witchcraft."

Dean's eyes grew wide, and he struggled against the rusty iron chains that were clamped tight on his wrists. He shook his head wildly.

"N-no. No! I'm not, I swear! I didn't, I-"

"You shall be burned at the stake at dawn!" The judge raised his voice over Dean's blubbering. He thrashed as his arms were gripped tight and he was pulled out of the courthouse and into the dusty road. He watched as the people gathered around to watch him be taken away. The tears fell faster.

"Please! Somebody help me! I'm innocent, I'm innocent, Im-"

"Move it, witch!" Dean grunted as a boot kicked his knee, his legs buckling and his feet dragging across the ground. He whimpered.

"This is what you deserve, Winchester! You deserve to burn!"

Dean turned his head in the direction of the voice. He could see the woman, clutching a girl to her chest, The girl looked sickly and pale, and he recognized her as the one who had accused him. He rose and kicked at the men dragging him, fighting to get closer to the girl.

"You! This is your fault! You know I'm no witch! Tell truth!"

The mother pulled her child closer to her and he was yanked forward, arms gripped so tight he could feel bruises forming. People snarled at him with hate filled eyes and ugly words leaving their mouths.

"Burn the witch, burn the witch, burn the witch!"

"No! No! I'm not a witch, I'm not-"

His screeching was cut off as he was pushed into the prison. He sobbed as the scent of mildew and rust filled his nostrils. What made him sob the most, was the ghost of a smirk he was on the little girls face as he was thrown into his doom.

~o~

Dean had never really imagined prison being so cold.

He knew it couldn't have been pleasant, but even the bars on his cell froze his fingers. The guard had went off hours ago, probably to have sex with the preacher's wife. He'd like to think that if the Council knew exactly what his did in his spare time, he would be fined. He sighed.

_Creak._

Dean stilled, his breath quickening. It couldn't be dawn already, it just couldn't. He'd only been in his cell for a few hours. Hadn't he?

He scooted back and pressed himself to the wall, curling up and praying it was just a mouse making the noises. 

_Thump. thump, thump._

_Nonopleasepleaseno-_

"Dean?"

Dean's breath caught as a man stood in front of the bars, his fingers wrapped around the metal and eyes glistening with tears.

"Sam!"

Dean stood and ran to the cell door, covering Sam's hands with his own. He sobbed in relief.

"Oh God! Oh God, Sam, I'm going to die. They think I'm a witch and they're going to burn me, and-"

"Shh." Sam ran his thumb across Dean's lips, catching the tears gathering in the corner of his mouth and making him relax. "I've come to save you."

Dean gasped and backed away, shaking his head. "Do you realize how dangerously stupid that is? You have a wife, Samuel! She will report you gone and when they come here to take me away and the find  _me_ gone, they'll find out, and then  _you_ will be hunted!"

Sam kneeled in front of the lock and started working it, the lock picker scratching the metal inside. He grinned triumphantly as it clicked, and he swung the door open. 

"Come on Dean. Even if they make the connection that we went to the same place, they will only think that you took me from my bed. Now lets go. We have no time to waste."

Dean backed further away as Sam came closer. "No. This will get you killed, and I can't." His voice hitched and he looked at the dirty ground. "I can't be responsible."

He could hear Sam sigh, and he was pulled into his embrace, warm arms squeezing him. "I understand. But you know me, Dean. I have a place we can go. It's deep in the woods. The last person I showed it to died eight years ago. We will be safe there. Together. Isn't that what you want?"

Sam pulled away and framed his lover's face, staring into his sad, green eyes. He nodded slowly.

"Okay. We can go."

Sam gave a bright smile and took Dean by the hand, pulling him out his cell and into the open road. Dean thumbed his ring finger.

"You're not wearing your wedding ring."

Sam turned, his smile still bright. "I know."

~o~ 

The days were quiet in the little cabin. 

Dean slowly relaxed as he spent his breakfasts and dinners without the fear of being taken. Sam would hunt for them and get water from the river while Dean would draw, the pencils Sam had brought with him grew alarming short and the amount of paper grew less and less. But he was happy. He was with his love, with Sam, and he was happy.

But then the voices came.

"-witch could be dead."

A snort echoed across the trees.

"-likely. Witches don't die easy."

Dean's breath quickened and the pencil in his hand snapped in two. He sprang from his place on the bed and rushed through the cabin, blowing out the candles and closing the ratty curtains. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His thoughts ran in a loop.

_They're gonna find me. They'll find me and then they'll find Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam-_

His trance stopped as his boot landed on his broken pencil and his discarded picture of Sam. He slowly bent and picked up his pencil, flipping the paper over and scribbling words with messy handwriting.

_Dear Sam..._

~o~

"Witch?"

Dean opened his eyes as the men made their way into the cabin, guns cocked and aimed. He watched as they circled him with disgusted looks on their faces. 

"Stand up."

Dean stood, the tip of a shotgun poking his back.

"You ready?"

 He stared at the man who spoke. He was almost grateful. He could recognize the kindness the man was offering. He sighed.

_May God have mercy on us all._

"I'm ready."


End file.
